


Bunnies in Handcuffs

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:51:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a farm for plot bunnies that I'm determined to keep to one chapter, as in scenes from longer fics that might have been.  Ratings and pairings in each title. Chapter 4: 13-year-old McDanno AU- hanging in Steve's room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jive Talkin' - McDanno - Rating: T

Steve did a perimeter walk of the empty second floor of the club. 

_His club._

_Ohana_ was crazy packed on its second Friday night. He stood alone, taking it in: Scores of people dancing, spinning and swaying, arms flying in perfect synch under red and green strobes, the bass line of _Jive Talking_ making the room vibrate. Another hundred people were clustered around the two bars and the Koa wood railings along the dance floor.

The disco ball arrived this morning - the crowd actually _cheered_ when DJ Kono flipped it on and the room shimmered with its warm white flashes. Steve felt goose bumps at the sound. Nothing had made him this happy in …so long.

"Hey, boss," Chin taking the stairs two at a time. "We need to open this floor. Probably gonna have to turn people away, too; we’re near capacity."

“Seriously?” Steve grinned, accepting a clap on the shoulder from his security chief.

"There's a line to get in," Chin headed back to tend to the crowd. "Congrats, brah…”

His friends thought Steve had lost his mind when bought an old, rundown beach bar to turn it into a disco. They _knew_ he’d lost it when he sank all his savings into it.

He was sure he’d love this life, though, and he already did: Watching people enjoy themselves, laughing and dancing like there was no tomorrow if only for a few hours. He knew he could make it work. What he hadn’t expected, not for a minute, was…

“Oh, brotha, don’t tell mama!” Kono shouting it into the mic, fighting to be heard over the throng and the opening strains of Staying Alive. "Here comes _Trouble!_ ”

Steve stepped closer to the rail, hands wrapping around it as he watched the guy hit the dance floor: a hot, tight, blonde package in a perfect white shirt, four buttons undone, pants that hugged his ass. He’d been in almost every night – so much, Steve found himself waiting for it; the sight of him shimmying and thrusting his hips, making a show out of escorting one girl or another onto the floor.

The others here? They were dancing. This guy was _dancing_ , twirling the petite brunette as if he was spinning cotton candy, strutting like he owned the place.

Steve didn't realize how gone he was ‘til the song ended and he surfaced - surrounded by patrons. He pried his hands off the rail and went to check on his bartenders.

~*~

“You should chuck that in the garbage,” Steve heard a voice say. “Those’ll kill you.”

It was sardonic but warm; not as deep as Steve had imagined but every bit as tough. He knew before his eyes flew from the cigar in his hand to the blonde’s face whose voice it was.

He felt his heart speed up. 

Shit. Damn. This was …very not in the plan. 

“I don’t smoke,” Steve tried to sound like it was usual, falling into conversation with no hello. “My staff gave me this and some champagne to celebrate….”

He got the feeling it wasn’t an accident, the guy walking around to the back parking lot. He must have seen Steve taking breathers here, drinking in some quiet. 

“Guessing they love you,” Blondie got a mere yard or so away from him. “Your staff. I know how empty this place used to be and…well, it’s genius, really, starting a disco. First one on the island. Your mom didn’t raise any dummies.”

“My mom…didn’t raise me. Not really.” Steve could have kicked himself the second it came out.

“Oh, crap, sorry,” the guy stepped even closer instead of away, surprisingly. “Story of my life: Open mouth, insert foot…”

Steve felt crowded, but in a good way. Funny, ‘cause this wasn’t a big guy. Still, he was …imposing. Magnetic. That was it; it hit him with a rush, what he’d found so intriguing about him – he wasn’t cocky, not really. He was self-confident. Undaunted by the idea of talking with attractive strangers, even ones who unload family skeletons in mere seconds.

“Where’d you learn to dance?” Steve asked to cut the fission of tension.

“Jersey. Before I moved to this hellhole. My ex-wife loved to dance so I learned to love it, too. Then she stopped loving me. It’s keeps me out of trouble.”

“I built a disco, but I don’t dance,” Steve found himself saying. Then he wondered if the guy had slipped him truth serum or something. “Crazy, huh?”

“Why’d you do it?” the guy asked it like the answer was of actual interest to him. 

“It’s been a …bad year. I thought… it might help. Giving people a place to be happy.”

“Has it?”

“Yeah. Except it just got… more complicated. Story of _my_ life.”

Steve saw his expression change – saw a huff of surprise and an ‘oh, wow, you went right there, didn’t you?’ in those blue, blue eyes.

“Since we’re sharing, can I tell you a secret?” 

“Sure,” Steve leaned in when the guy nodded, requesting his ear, getting up in close by Steve’s cheek.

“The girls I come here with? Co-workers. Friends.”

“Really? The way you move with them…”

“Friends. And Steven…”

“Yeah?” 

“I do my best dancing with no feet on the floor.”

He was so near, and he smelled so good – like dance floor sweat and Aramis cologne and… Steve lost a few seconds of time.

“How’d you know my name? How'd you know you could say that and not get slugged?” He called out to the sweet figure walking away.

“Because I’ve noticed you looking for me when I get here,” Steve heard him, but barely – guy didn’t even bother to raise his voice. “I’ve seen you stare when I dance. And I feel you watching me go.”

There was nothing to say to that, really. So Steve didn’t. It seemed safest.

~*~

“Danny?”

“Uh… yeah.” His voice was even sexier half asleep and scratchy. “This who I think it is?”

“Steve McGarrett. From the club.”

“Hi, Steve from the club. How’d you get _my_ name?”

“Kono. The way she introduced you …. I figured she might…”

“It’s three in the damn morning, gorgeous. Couldn’t wait ‘til tomorrow, huh?”

“Apparently not.”

“So… tell me what you’re wearing?”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just like that. I’ll start; I’m naked. Tell me what you’re wearing, Steven.”

“She’s right. You are trouble.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

~fin~


	2. If the Slipper Fits ... - McDanno - Mild M rating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many times can I write McDanno first time fic? Apparently many, lol. This one is written to a prompt from the 1_million_words comm, my take on "If the shoe fits...."

“These yours, cuz?” Kono waved at the flip flops she spotted lying near the duffel that held her snorkel gear.

She and Adam and Chin had driven in Adam’s car to the 5-0 company picnic, but everyone had tossed their things in the back of Steve’s truck at the meet up point. Then most of them hiked the last half mile in, with Steve and Danny driving the off-road portion on their own.

It was a jumble, all that stuff, after a mile or so of bumpy dirt road.

“They’re not mine, I’m good…” Chin kicked one foot around to show his were already on, tossing his sneakers into the truck bed and then digging around for his backpack. “Grover’s or Danny’s?”

“Yo, Danny….these yours?”

“Did you just… say ‘yo’ at me?” Danny asked her from under his t-shirt, half done tugging it on over his head, his button down folded and sitting on Steve’s front seat. “Am I rubbing off on you?”

“Watch your language,” Kono quipped, getting a laugh and a mock-leer out of him. “And put on your slippers.”

“Thanks, but those are most definitely not mine. No offense, but you will never catch me with slippers on my feet unless I’m comatose and you slap ‘em on me against my will.”

“We will get you out of those closed-toe leather sweat boxes,” Chin promised. “Just like we got out out of those ties.”

“Look, it’s not snobbery,” Danny shrugged, stepping in to look for his stuff as Chin stepped away. “Keep in mind I walked a beat when I started out. My feet are not sexy. They’re not beautiful. They’re..feet.”

“Steve’s feet are beautiful,” Kono said. “For a guy’s. Just saying.”

“Well, thank you,” Steve showed up just in time to collect his compliment, back from helping Kamekona carry the grill down to the camp site. “Why are we talking about my feet?”

“We’re trying to convince Danny to ditch his city sandals for slippers,” Chin said. 

“Do it,” Steve stopped, hands going to his hips, eyeing Danny standing there in his city sandals. “Put ‘em on.”

“Who do they even belong to, anyway?” Danny turned them around in his hands suspiciously, as if toe fungus were a concern, maybe.

“Ellie’s probably,” Steve said. “We went surfing last weekend.”

“You did, huh? You two…still hanging out. Sometimes?”

“Yes,” Steve said, staying put, voice extra patient.

Kono didn’t miss it - the tone in Danny’s voice that suggested it wasn’t the happiest news all day, and the one in Steve’s voice telling him to stop it.

“Sandals are unisex. Unless they’re frilly, and those are not,” Chin observed. 

“Put ‘em on, Danny,” Kono said as the last of the gear left the truck and Steve locked it up.

Somehow it turned into a chant - _put em on, Danny, put ‘em on, Danny._ Even Jerry, who pulled up as it began, joined in for a few rounds with a hesitant smile.

“Dude what are we doing, here?” he nudged Chin. “What are we telling him to put on?”

“Those,” Chin pointed at the flip-flops Danny had tossed back down on the ground.

“Oh. And he needs convincing, why?”

“Something about not liking his feet. And probably the usual resistance to change.”

“Danny, you totally have to try them,” Jerry told a bemused looking Danny. “Covered Sandals? You’re basically just shoveling sand into ‘em all damn day. Put on the slippers, dude, you’ll never go back.”

Danny’s face took on one more mildly annoyed expression and then he visibly gave up, toed off his own sandals, and put on the flip flops.

“See. They fit perfectly. And I don’t know what you’re so self-conscious about,” Kono shrugged. “You have nice feet. Doesn’t he boss?”

“What is with you and feet?” Danny asked.

“He does,” Steve answered her. He was the only one other than Danny not moving along yet. 

Danny looked over at him in time to catch it once all other backs were turned to them- the darkly amused, hungry little glare Danny had only seen from him rarely. And quite recently. As in last night. Their first night.

“Stop it,” He tried to push the image that was clearly in Steve’s head out of his own. “Right now, stop it.”

It didn’t work - Danny had it on his brain, too: Steve over him in Steve’s bed, crouched low, kissing and mouthing his way down Danny’s thigh, Danny’s legs over Steve's shoulders and back. Steve had pushed him all over the damn mattress while he finger-fucked him, had sucked him almost, not quite, to the point of Danny coming in his mouth to get him good and worked up.

Then he’d put him where he wanted him one more time, urged his bent knees back and planted wet kisses down his calves, onto the soles of his feet, sucking on one big toe before he got hands under Danny’s ass and urged him to open up his legs wider and….

Steve had the exact same look on his face as he'd had at that moment; all sexed-up and ‘so gonna fuck you.’ 

“Your feet are pretty hot, Danny,” Steve ducked in to say it low as they started out after the others, twenty yards behind them now. “And delicious, by the way.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” Danny muttered. “We’ve got five solid hours before we can even think of leaving here…”

“Wanna eat you alive,” Steve informed him, almost casually.

“You have. Repeatedly, since Pau Hana last night. Which only supports my theory that you’re an animal….”

“I’m not like that with everyone,” Steve offered, and it’d be nice if he’d lay off the sex voice a little. “There’s no one else I get so wound up with. No one I want throw down from. Want to do shit with ’em til…we can’t anymore.”

“Why am I feeling like that’s a load of very flattering bull crap?”

“It’s not. You can ask Catherine…”

“Oh, sure, I’ll just ask her. I can see it now: ‘Hey, Catherine, when you were screwing Steve did he throw you around his mattress all night like it was a really filthy wrestling match?’ Cue her tight-lipped, laser stare of death - and then she cold-cocks me. I’ll be seeing stars like that rooster on Looney Tunes…”

“She would not deck you.”

“Yeah, she would,” Danny paused a beat. “Maybe I should ask Ellie, too?”

“This is the last time I’m saying it, Danny - nothing going on there. Nothing. And may I point out I’m the one who’s had to watch you with a girlfriend the last few months?”

The last few months: the frustration of them - being alone again after Catherine left, then watching Danny with whatever her name was….and the news about Charlie. That was the thing that finally pushed Steve to stop waiting to see how it all played out -- to ask Danny if maybe it wasn’t time for them to give each other a chance.

The only shock had been how fast Danny said ‘yes, please - God, yes; someone I know where I stand with…someone who'll never lie to me.’

“She’s not getting these back,” Danny nodded down toward his own feet as they walked. “Keeping her sandals. That were in your truck.”

“Marking your territory?”

“Maybe.”

“You _should_ keep them.” Steve picked up the pace, but slid his arm closest to Danny low and around him to cup his ass and give it a squeeze as he did. “They fit you good.”

“Will you stop touching me like that for the next few hours? If you make me embarrass myself in front of our friends, I swear…”

“Sorry,” Steve sounded it, though his eyes still said ‘wanna put you down right here’ and it was gonna be a long afternoon. “Next time we get into bed for the first time ever, we’ll have to make sure it’s not the weekend of the company party.”

“Did you even hear yourself? The illogic of that statement…”

“Just trying to rile you up, D. Besides, there could be a first time again. We’ll need role-play to spice things up eventually. When you get bored with me.”

“Based on last night?” Danny looked up at him, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary ….maybe ever.”

“You know what?” Steve’s arm went back around him, but this time it stayed around his waist. “I don’t think so, either.”


	3. Spitting Image... - McDanno - Teen Rating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is written as a birthday ficlet for Tkeyla on the 1_million_words come. More notes at the end...

Danny wasn’t one for snapping half a million baby pictures. With Charlie he never had the chance, of course, but even with Grace he’d been pretty moderate about it. He didn’t need pictures stacked up in some box or sitting on a computer to remember their gorgeous little faces. Both were burned in his memory just fine.

But this; Steve out cold on his back on their sofa with Kalei equally out cold on his onesie-covered belly atop Steve’s chest? This absolutely required a shot.

“Hey,” Steve murmured, shifting slightly, eyes still mostly closed and arm going over Kalei protectively, his voice deep and rumbling with sleep. “You’re home…”

Danny had tried to be quiet with the grocery bags and in crouching down in front of them as he took it with his phone. But he managed to nudge the coffee table on his way up. Damn trick knee…

“Yeah. Go back to sleep, babe. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Steve didn’t need to hear it twice – he was already out again, the result of a tough week on the job and also taking the brunt of the two a.m. feedings this week. They figured it made more sense than alternating by night; that way they each had half a month of blissful, almost-uninterrupted sleep to look forward to every time the calendar turned. 

“Fricking gorgeous…” Danny said aloud to himself, watching them.

Kalei had a head full of black hair, but with auburn all shot through it; his dad’s blond genes making their presence known. They’d waited to see if his baby blue eyes would change. They did, keeping some of Danny’s pure blue but taking on some very familiar hazel and grey flecks. 

He was a good size, but not a huge baby – six pounds, ten ounces and twenty inches the day he was born. He had long fingers, a wide, goofy smile that Danny said was all gas, still, and thick eyelashes that curved at the end ever so slightly and made little shadows on his face when he was sleeping. He also had a superb set of lungs. 

Godmother Kono had a running bet he’d be an absolute motor-mouth. Godfather Chin couldn’t wait to take him fishing – he was betting on the kid taking to water before he could even walk.

Whatever he became, he was already a miracle Danny thought looking at them now. And to think…he’d almost put his foot down and said no….

~*~

“Just because something’s possible, doesn’t mean we should do it,” he’d told Steve that first day, still in shock Steve would even suggest it. “I would think with your predilection for broken toys…”

He’d expected Steve to latch right on to his alternative to adopt instead. But no, Steve was determined. More like hell-bent.

“If you’re all in with the idea of raising a kid with me, Danny, why not _our_ kid? Are you… doubting us? Whether it’s right, the two of us being together?”

“Don’t you dare,” Danny had given him the ‘don’t even go there’ death glare. “Besides, it’s highly experimental – only two babies born that way, so what makes you think they’d even consider us simply because Max knows someone who knows someone who…hell, it’s not like we’re twenty-something with young DNA going for us.”

“You underestimate our influence, Danno,” Steve had been close to fuming. “I don’t call in chits often, but we’ve got a ton of them – we’ve got the governor’s ear, high profile-jobs. I’ve got my accomplishments and you’ve got a ton of collars and a solid history as a parent and…”

“Why?” 

Danny had stopped Steve before the tirade turned angry, with the only question that mattered.

“I don’t know if I have the words,” Steve had gotten that little-boy-lost look on his face that Danny hadn’t seen since the worst of Doris fucking with his head a couple of years ago. “Why should we have to have a ‘why?’ Other parents don’t need to have a reason. Why shouldn’t we if we can? Why shouldn't we have our kid?”

~*~

So Max had talked to someone who got them in a queue. They passed all the pre-testing and got reams of recommendations from their friends and the hardest part turned out not to be the procedural stuff at all – but the waiting to see if the stem cells harvested from each of them could be turned into an egg. 

Two succeeded – both Danny’s. Both became embryos with Steve’s sperm, but only one ‘took’ with their surrogate. 

Kalei.

His name was Hawaiian for happiness, for wealth (of family and love), and for spear (had to be a weapon in there somewhere, the family businesses and all). 

He was half Steve McGarret, half Danny Williams and no one else’s.

 

~*~

Danny got the groceries put away, and on instinct started a bottle warming. It was ready seconds after he heard the first high, agitated squeaky wailing out of his son.

“Here we go…” He brought it out to them.

“Perfect, D, thanks. I didn’t think we’d slept that long…” Steve was arranging Kalei in his arms to feed him but handed him over to Danny instead, gladly letting him have the honors and sinking back into the couch. “He’s gonna need fresh skivvies, too.”

“Skivvies… you nutbag. They’re diapers.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Steve watched him tilting Kalei up to keep him from getting too much air with the formula. “Got any regrets, Danno?”

It had only been nine weeks, but Danny already could barely remember the days before him. 

“Are you frigging kidding?” He shook his head. “Grace and Charlie and this one living with you and me? It’s the perfect full house; two kings and three aces. Only problem is… I’ve got another chain around my heart now. More to lose, you know?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, and Danny saw a new understanding of exactly what he meant on Steve’s face. “I do.”

 

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I read about the technology being developed that would allow an egg to be developed from male DNA, giving some same sex couples the option to have a baby genetically all theirs. I'm kind of surprised I haven't seen it in a fic yet - I *think* this is the first one in this fandom. Tkeyla, hope you enjoy it.


	4. Atari- Teen Rating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one off is from a prompt on the 1_million_words comm - I think it was 'parents introducing' two characters. A little AU, 13-year-old McDanno hanging out in Steve's room. ;)

“Steven…”

Doris’ voice at his bedroom door. Patient. Way too patient. This couldn’t be good, whatever it ended up being about.

“Yeah, ma…” Steve took off his headphones and stopped playing along on his guitar with the Beatles’ ’Why Don’t we Do it in the Road.’ 

He couldn’t imagine what he’d done to warrant an interruption in his post-homework free time. Or who the blonde kid was standing right behind her, with his hands in his pocket and a glower on his face.

He was…. cute. In a smoldering, ‘I’m so fucking much better than you, what the fuck am I doing here?’ kind of way: James Dean in dark brown corduroys and a blue striped button-down.

“Daniel Williams and his family… they’re the ones who moved in up the block,” Doris said, and all kinds of connections went off in Steve’s brain; his mom, the PTA, the neighborhood welcoming committee, etc, etc, etc….. “His parents and I thought maybe you two could be friends?”

The sing-song note in her voice made Steve’s stomach fall to the floor. Doris frigging knew. He was only thirteen - his parents hadn’t even bothered to have ‘the talk’ with him yet, and his mom was….

….introducing him to a boy.

That’s what it felt like, at least - and Steve knew his mom. Daniel Williams did not know her, though, and didn’t seem to pick up on anything in there, thank Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

“Hey,” Steve said, putting his headphones on again, and kicking back on his bed.

“Hi,” the kid barely nodded, going straight for the Atari setup on the floor in front of Steve’s Sharp ‘Atomic’ portable color TV.

Doris could pull this shit….. it didn’t mean Steve had to play along. He went back to his guitar work.

“Excuse me…” A muffled voice beyond his earphones registered, eventually: His ’friend’ tapping an index finger on top of Steve’s actual skull. “Do you have the other one?”

“The other what?” Steve asked, Doris long gone and his voice turning curt. 

Steve needed to make it clear he wasn’t playing. He recognized him vaguely, now - new kid with an attitude. Last thing he needed was this day ending in a sense of obligation: His ‘duty’ to protect him from the dust ups the other guys at school would insist on.

“The other joy stick. To the game. I want to play Missile Command.”

“So play solo mode,” Steve shrugged.

“I don’t _want_ solo mode, asshole,” Daniel Williams replied, extra patiently, and Steve felt his own eyes widen in surprise and appreciation for the guy’s lack of ‘give a shit.’ “Games are only fun with two, so…. point me to the other goddamned controller, okay?”

Steve set his guitar down, got off the bed and dug it out from beneath a pile of clothes nearby, handing it to him.

“What good is the other joystick if you’re just playing ….with yourself?”

This time it was Steve putting something coy in his voice – and one of the guy’s eyebrow went up. 

Interesting.

“It’s better than nothing,” he went about plugging everything in. “How about we leave it at that.”

“You any good at Missile Command?”

“I am…freaking _fantastic_ , if I do say so.”

The glimmer in those blue eyes when he hit that word: Maybe Daniel Williams had understood Doris, after all.

“I guess you think you are,” Steve dropped in to his left, reaching for the closest joystick. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re interested.”

“I’m not … interested,” Steve got in his face a little, then sat back again - cross-legged, eyes on the screen. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Danny.”

“Danny?” The guy was settling in, too, shifting to get comfortable, fingers flexing. “Who are you, calling me Danny?”

“Well I don’t know you,” Steve said, hitting the buttons to get them past the startup screen and into the game. “But I’m guessing you’re not fucking stupid enough to move somewhere new and go by ‘Daniel’?”

“It’s ‘D’ to my friends.”

“oh…kay…. ‘D,’” Steve looked away from the game to flash him a little something with his eyes. “Let’s see what you’ve got….”

Game on.


End file.
